Happy 44th Birthday, Kurt Cobain.
I find it mildly interesting that I can be so attached to someone I never, to borrow a cliche with no intention of giving it back, shared the earth with. Not that I share the earth with anyone. It's my earth. I'm a very possessive person.
I was thinking the other day. I do that sometimes, think. Most of the time I then forget. Like I just did. I can't remember, for the life of me, what I was going to say next.
I'm going to post a legitimate post, either a poem or a ramble or a thesis, in a little while, but I have to post this wish for a happy birthday before it becomes midnight here- and thus not Kurt Cobain's birthday any longer- or it'll bother me.
Why can't I be witty?